


anastasia's mate

by AssumingMinds19



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chess, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, One-Shot, Queens Gambit inspired, Shortest thing I've written in a long time, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssumingMinds19/pseuds/AssumingMinds19
Summary: For some reason, Kara had become obsessed with chess. Well, really there was only one reason.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 36
Kudos: 367





	anastasia's mate

“Anyone can play, right?”

Kara felt like she was going to bounce out of her own skin, finally daring to do this, sitting on her chair and whispering to the white-bearded man next to her. Eagerness vibrated against her ribs alongside her heart. She’d asked the same man she’d seen the dark-haired woman playing the most, watching from far away. But her eyes were on the woman herself, standing back as the row of old men set their boards.

  
“Of course, _moy dorogoy_ ,” he answered through a thick Russian accent, his hands shaking over his pawns. “But be warned, _poteryannaya printsessa_ is playing all quickly today.”

“What-“

  
Before she could finish, the woman was suddenly in front of her, Kara’s breath and question caught in her throat at finally being so close. But she didn’t even look at Kara, only at her bright, shiny and unused board for a second, before making her move and rotating back down to the end of the line. 

  
Even though she was playing seven of them at once, Kara could barely keep up, losing first, embarrassment twisting in her gut. The rest fell in quick succession, and before she knew it, the men were packing up. The woman had vanished, leaving Kara wondering what’d just happened. 

  
“That’s it?” She asked. “But I-“

  
“Don’t be upset,” the Russian replied. “She always wins.”

  
Kara blinked, looking back to her board and the pattern of her loss.

  
“Does she _ever_ speak?”

“ _Da_ ,” he laughed. “Sometimes.”

* * *

The next time they played, it was just the two of them. Kara hadn’t been expecting to play her at all. For the past month, the woman had switched only between the Russian and another man with a thick scarf. But today, before Kara had even finished setting up her board, the woman landed in the chair in front of her, waiting silently. Kara’s mouth gaped, her eyes darted towards her new Russian friend, panicked. The man’s lips twitched, and he nodded in encouragement before returning to his own game. 

  
Kara hesitated, waiting for some cue from the other woman, but she was still just watching Kara quietly. Kara rushed to set up the pieces, feeling obligated to give the woman white as thanks for choosing her. 

  
It was the longest game Kara had ever played, all of fifteen minutes. The woman’s moves slow and deliberate enough for her to clue in that she was giving Kara a game without pressure. An unachievable goal, Kara barely able to focus on the pieces, distracted by the lavender smell her nose caught on the wind, wondering if it was the woman’s perfume. 

  
Still, once she’d lost, Kara frowned at the board, trying to understand.

  
“You shouldn’t have castled.”

  
It was a lovely voice, smooth, husky and crisp all at once. Wrapped around the consonants and tilting them up in a distinctly un-American way. Kara had trouble believing it was directed at her. 

  
“I’m sorry?”

  
She winced at the way her voice squeaked, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, just kept watching her with vibrant green eyes.

  
“In your game.”

  
Kara’s foggy brain tried to catch up. She looked back at the board, trying to see what the woman was telling her.

  
“I needed to get the rook out.”

  
The woman didn’t wait, fingers reaching and darting over the pieces, resetting the play. 

  
“You lost your advantage,” she answered, moving the carved wood. “I played pawn takes pawn, you couldn’t take back. Your problem was your queen knight.”

  
Kara blinked, still not seeing it. At her non-answer, the other woman let out a soft sigh and stood. 

“Think it out.”

  
She breezed away with the chill wind before Kara could reply, leaving her frustrated and mournful watching her go.

A deep laugh sounded. Kara looked to the old Russian, finished now and shaking the hand of his opponent.

“You are like _sobaka_ chasing its tail.”

Kara scowled, annoyed and began to pack up her own pieces.

“What is _with_ her?” She grumbled.

“Fascinated?” He teased standing, board under his arm. “You’re not the first, even though you are the first she’s shown how they lost.”

Kara scowled, feeling the butt of a joke she had no part of.  


“She’s good, so what?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows reached his hairline.

  
“She’s three times international champion before she was sixteen, _devushka_ ,” he answered, making her feel thick for not knowing. “She beat Petrovick in Paris before she was a grandmaster. You’ve been playing with _Bog shakhmat_ , my dear. The Lost Princess, God of Chess. Don’t wonder how you lose, just be glad she picked you.”

* * *

Lena Luthor was her real name. From there, Kara spent half a day googling everything she could about her. Chess champion, a child prodigy, winning more competitive games before she was fourteen then most played in their career. Article after article calling her the greatest chess player to ever live. All until her final match at sixteen, the first loss of her career, when she seemed to vanish from the chess scene and the earth. Except she hadn’t. She was here, in National City, playing in the park with old men and Kara.

  
Kara’s cursor hovered over the video of an old interview, Lena’s young face so sombre and severe for a child of twelve. 

  
_“It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just sixty-four squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.”_

_  
“And what do you do for fun?”_

_  
“I stay awake as long as I can, reading my books, learning the Sicilian Defence. There are fifty-seven pages about it in the book I’m reading, with one hundred and seventy lines stemming from P to QB4. I’ll memorise them and play through them in my mind.”_

_  
“There’s more to life than chess, you know.”_

_  
“Is there?”_

  
Kara absorbed the words, her curiosity ferocious before she closed her laptop screen and picked up the second-hand, dog eared book on chess openings she had bought, settling back on her couch to reread it again.

* * *

The third time they played, Kara was the one to choose Lena, marching right up and sitting across from her before Lena had the chance to choose anyone else. It sent a mutter through the crowd of old men, but Lena took it in her stride, a ghost of a smile on her lips and didn’t say a word as Kara set up the board, this time choosing white. 

  
Kara made her first move deliberately, watching Lena’s face as she did, daring her with it. Lena’s eyes raked the board, then Kara’s face in turn, sparkling before she made her answering move. 

  
It was long and complicated, and Kara spent more time hung up on moves that should have been simple when Lena countered with something that sent her in a whole new direction. By the time the game had stretched into an hour, none of the men were playing anymore. Instead, they gathered in a small crowd around them, watching quietly as their match ebbed and flowed. 

  
Once, Kara was convinced she was going to lose, seeing Lena’s path to victory in three more moves when suddenly, Lena did something completely unexpected. Sacrificing her queen and leaving her king exposed. At first, Kara thought she had missed something herself, wondering if she had tripped into a mistake. But the more she looked, the worse it all became for Lena. It caught Kara off-guard. It would be a brutal play. It would be the kind of thing Lena did to other people, and for a minute Kara wondered if she should do it at all. But something was pushing her in the back of her mind—an urge for this to be more than a pastime. More then a compulsion or an addiction, and Kara wondered when this had become less about knowing Lena and more about knowing herself. It was a demand, an obsession—a thirst for something more.

  
Kara made the play, her fingers unable to let go of her piece as she watched, recalculated and watched again before she let it go. Kara saw it in Lena’s eyes then, a softness. An acceptance. And then, Lena was holding out her hand for Kara to take, her king in her palm.

  
“It’s your game,” she whispered. “Take it.”

  
Kara did, her skin tingling where their hands touched, a part of her was too dumbfounded to realise that the roaring in her ears was the sound of applause from the crowd around them. Lena dropped their joined hands with a smile and melted back through the group. Kara tried to follow as the men held her back, offering their congratulations. In an undoubtedly rude move, she ignored and pushed past them, head twisting around, scanning the people in the park, finally spotting Lena’s back as she walked away. 

  
Kara ran after her, calling out.

  
“Hey, wait!” 

  
Lena stopped, turned around, an eyebrow arched when Kara slid to a stop in front of her. Without the barrier of chess between them, Kara found herself at a loss for words, caught in Lena’s green eyes. 

  
“I… uhhh… hello.” 

  
It was all she could dumbly manage.

  
“Hello.” 

  
There was a long pause, too long beyond comfortable, before the only thought Kara could think spilled from her lips.

  
“Did you let me win?” 

  
“No.” 

  
Kara hesitated, the insecurity mixed with the flush of victory banished at Lena’s quick answer. Somehow knowing without knowing that Lena wasn’t a person who’d lie.

  
“But you did before,” Kara continued instead, pressing, searching for something to hold onto. “Your game… when you were sixteen.” 

  
Lena looked out and away from her for a beat.

  
“Yes,” she answered quietly, looking back.

  
Kara’s mouth worked silently, tasting the answer on her tongue.

  
“Why?” 

Lena took another pause before she replied.  


“When winning takes everything, what are you left with?”

Kara shouldn’t know what she meant. How could she possibly? But part of her felt it in her bones anyway.   


“Chess isn’t always competitive though,” Kara whispered. “It can also be-“ 

“Beautiful.” 

The bare branches of the park dusted light through their snow-covered boughs. They haloed them perfectly, Kara thought, capturing this moment, frozen eternal.

  
“Why did I win?” She needed to know, not fully understanding herself. “You’ve been playing all your life, I’ve only been playing for three months.”

  
Lena didn’t seem to think her question stupid, or ridiculous, or any of the things Kara feared it was. She just stepped forward, an inch, but enough to make a point, her eyes darkening to a deeper green. 

  
“Because I was only playing chess, darling,” the final word rippled down Kara’s spine. “You spent three months learning to play chess with _me_. You’re very good. Raw, unpredictable… when you’re not overthinking. You made a marvellous recovery today.”

  
Kara knew. She’d almost opened herself up to check in five moves. But the fact that Lena knew that Kara knew and fixed it made her preen, a blush filling her cheeks.

  
“Thank you. I… I’ve been watching you, for a while on my lunch break,” she admitted. “You were always here, the only colour in a sea of silver.”

  
“You were fascinated by it.”

  
“Not it,” Kara quickened. “You.”

  
Lena’s head tilted, and not for the first time, Kara hungered to know what exactly was going on under that pale and beautiful mask. 

“What’s your name?” Lena asked, voice soft, welcoming and unexpected.

  
“Kara. Kara Danvers.”

  
“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

  
“Like a date?” Kara blinked, wondering if she’d misheard.

  
“Yes,” Lena smiled.

  
“Ye.. yeah!” Kara stumbled, unable to reign in her enthusiasm. “Umm, tonight?”

  
“I have a standing engagement.” Before Kara could feel disappointed, Lena countered. “Tomorrow?”

  
Kara nodded, head bobbing like she was on the dashboard of a car.

  
“Ok.”

  
One second. Then two.

  
“Your number?”

“Oh, yeah…” Kara blushed again. “Here, I’ll um… put it into your… yep.”

  
She typed it dutifully into Lena’s outstretched phone, sending herself a text to make sure, before handing it back.

  
“Tomorrow then,” Lena answered, phone safely back in her pocket. “Kara Danvers.”

  
She leaned forward, brushing her warm lips against Kara’s cheek, her hand giving Kara’s arm a small squeeze through the fabric of her winter coat. Then she was floating away once more, Kara staring after her.

“Wow.”

That night Kara dreamt of rooks and castles and lost princesses, found again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Getting into some sort of groove. A challenge to myself, pairing this down.


End file.
